Hard Candy
by Taranova
Summary: Jean interrupts a disturbing conversation between Roy and Edward. Implied Roy/Ed, humor, and general perversion.


**A departure from my usual offering of angst and rape and sorrow. I wrote it quickly, and I didn't much care about it from a literary perspective. If you're expecting beautiful imagery, metaphors, or descriptive sex, you're going to be sorely disappointed. =)**

* * *

Jean Havoc cursed. A lot. In his rush to get home and watch the football game with the guys, he'd forgotten his cigarettes at Central Command. Not a big deal, but he didn't have any change with him and the nearest drug store wasn't anywhere near his apartment complex.

He groaned, ripping the keys from the ignition of his (modestly new) car, before trudging the half a block and three flights of stairs to Mustang's office. He started fishing for his keys at the oak door, but heard voices inside, so stepped closer, deciding to just barge right in. It wasn't too common for Mustang to stay late, but it did happen, and it would be better to just walk in quietly and leave instead of banging on the door. Roy got pissed when interrupted.

But wait, these were _voices_. Plural. Fullmetal? Odd. Ed never stayed after work, not if he could help it. He claimed the place gave him allergies, whatever the hell that meant. But no, they were definitely in there—together. Jean started to laugh at that. They were finally getting to know each other. He pressed his ear against the door, eavesdropping, wary of any sound he made. Ha, this was _good _blackmail material. He couldn't wait to tell the guys—

"Fullmetal, stop being a child. I'm sure it won't taste that bad."

"You're _evil_. Making me do this without any protection."

Something like a snarky laugh. Muttered words. "_Protection_?"

"Well, I bet you've never tried this!"

"Shut up and suck, Ed."

Jean felt his jaw hit the floor. What the fuckity-fucking-fuck? Roy was having—no, forcing_—_Ed to do what? He felt it was his civic duty to interrupt the fraternization—molestation—_whatever, _but his feet stayed glued to the floor like they belonged there. He was jumping to conclusions. Sucking and taste and protection were abstract words, a jumble of verb and noun, and they didn't mean anything. Maybe.

"What the hell, Mustang—" Edward's voice wavered, and it made Jean's heart go out to him; poor kid. Something like anger rose inside of him, but he quelled it. Ed made a gagging sound in his throat. "This should be illegal or something."

"I think it is, actually," Roy murmured.

"_What_?"

"Just keep sucking, you're going for a record here!"

[(Ed + Roy) + provocative dialogue^2]/one disheveled officer =

-BRAINBLEACH-

Jean felt sick to his stomach. He remained frozen, clutching at the doorknob like a dumbstruck idiot. He didn't know how to deal with something like this. Call the police or burst in with his gun or what? It wasn't like they trained him in military school to protect foul-mouthed seventeen year old brats from their perverted superiors—

"I can't do it! I just can't!" Ed wailed, though it sounded like his mouth was half-full. The words were garbled and sticky-sounding.

"You're almost there," Roy seemed breathless.

Almost...there?

Jean nearly toppled to the ground. He heard Edward give a small squeal of distaste, followed by a sigh of relief. The teen audibly spit into a metal trash can. Spit. Trashcan. OMAIGAWD.

That did it. Jean reached for his gun.

He kicked the door open on a totally surreal and unfamiliar scene. Edward clutched a plastic bag full of sour candies, laying on Mustang's sofa with an exhausted look on his face. Roy was on the other (way other, thank God) side of the room, a timer in his hand. At Havoc's expression, the dark-haired Colonel raised an eyebrow.

"Something the matter, Lieutenant?"

"Umm. What the hell were you..."

"Well, we were trying to set a world record, but Ed pussied out."

"Hey, we should the Lieutenant to play with us," Edward glared Mustang down, spitting more pink-tinted juice into the trash can with a disgusted look on his face. "I bet his mouth is better put to work than yours."

Jean backed up, still reeling from the supposed conversation he thought he'd heard. "No! No way! I don't want any part in your perverted fucking games, Mustang."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Roy asked, popping a sour cherry candy in his mouth. His face didn't change. "Fullmetal found these in Elysia's Halloween stash...still pretty good, in my opinion. You know the kid can fit two handfuls in his mouth?" He threw in a few more, and then resumed (pretending) to sign paperwork. "Course he keeps spitting them out before time. Two handfuls, one minute. That's the goal."

"Really?" Havoc asked, listlessly wondering what that might imply. "Two handfuls?" The room was suddenly a bit too warm. "You know what? I'm going to just leave now. Carry on." He turned and ran, deciding he probably wouldn't let the guys know about this after all. Too damn embarrassing.

Roy smirked. "Edward, my delicate features would be absolutely ruined if I rotted my teeth out with candy."

"Shut up, bastard," Edward said, ripping the bag and timer from Mustang's arms. Roy's smile was still plastered on his face, and before he knew it, he had his blond lover in his lap. He drew him closer, letting Fullmetal dominate him and his mouth. He tasted like cherries.

* * *

**I actually got the idea for this about a year ago, when Sarah and I were in my basement sucking on Sour Warheads. We kept making perverted comments, and one thing led to another and—I churned this sucker out. Pun intended. I know there are tons of these on this site, but I can't help it. Once I get a plot bunny and it comes to fruition, I publish it, because I'm a fantard. **

**Though now that I think on it, this isn't really plot, is it? It's more like substandard crack. Anyway, enjoy my substandard crack, loves. Blame Torean if you didn't like it, because she made me publish it! I need some more variety on my fanfic profile anyway. It's all poetic Roy/Ed wangst.  
**


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